Lyrics Dead Bodies - The Terrorists

Dead Bodies

Look around and tell me what you see
Nothing but catastrophes bother Dope-E
This ain’t a game, nigga, I don’t fuck around
I stuff your body in a garbage can downtown
See, that’s the hardcore life of the street game
With freaks attained, a nigga’s face get rearranged…
Into bloody play-doh, that’s the way it go
And by the time you think you know the time it ain’t no mo'
You see, I’m just waiting for a fool
So I could use his blood for my backyard pool
Damn, these niggas think of bullshit and fuck all that hitting
I’ma let my 9 start clicking
I did a job, I had to rob the mob
All their ass died cause they can’t squab
Terrorist style, battle to the very end
So many fatal weapons, I’m taking out all your men
And with my rifle and a scope to spot them
I’ma shoot my whole column till I doubt em and got them
You better wish upon a fucking star
Cause when my blood heats up, I’m hotter than steaming tar
Dead bodies…
Sending out a death shout to my boy Point Blank… May he rest in
Peace…
(What?! They done killed my nigga Blank?!)
No, ah-ah…That's bullshit…
I’m a walking corpse waking up from a deep sleep
Balming fluid in my body, still counting sheep
With a 100 dead men watching my back
I die smoking primos, they die smoking crack
Now it’s time to us to raise
And all the niggas that dissed me in the past: suprise
I get crazy thoughts that make me laugh
Like put you in the ground, dig you up and then kill your ass
How that sound, Dope?
(It sound good to me…)
What about you, Ganksta Nip?
(86 them, nigga speak…)
So if ya need more info check the mail
Cause mark the beginning of Blank’s blood trail
And if you make it to the end
I put a pistol to my head cause you gotta be a rough man
But ain’t no nigga harder than the Point Blank
So bitch, you owe me apology (I'm sorry!)
P-O-I-N to the mothafucking T Blank
Wreck shit like a tank, dank…
Makes me get ill, that’s why the mothafucking morgue is filled
Full of dead bodies…
Reminiscing about way back when…
As roggish as I was I should’ve been in the pen
Killing ain’t no thang, I must be insane
Snatch a little girl’s umbrella and ask her could she stand the rain
My brains is disassembled, life I can’t handle
But that’s what I get for throwing away my brain instruction manual
Robbed an old lady, went to court didn’t care
Cause I beat on the ear till her hearing was impaired
The judge could convict me, on where that occurred
Cause the pipe I beat her with made her speak with a slur
I’m dissing, but never ever, kissing the next man’s butt
Don’t make me get my pump
Chump change, pennies, nickles and dimes
I need bus fair, give it here, it’s mine
South Park brotha from the south y’all and don’t you ever run up on me
And try to scold me, or even bluff me, you better off shoot me
It takes a whole task force to handcuff me
I’m strong, street smart is the way to be
No hesitation, I strike instantly like a cobra
You better off staying sober, living on the edge, looking over your
Shoulder
I’m a maniac, when I react I attack…
With a baseball bat with intentions to crack…
Skulls and ribs, leaving mortal remains
Temporary insanity, I’m forever deranged
Now look at me and tell me what you see
How old do I look cause I can only count to three
I need an education, to give me hope
I need some money, so now I’m selling dope…
E behind bars, a cement wall
With no one to write to or no one to call
And if I ever have a change to do it over
I would do it just like I did before: hardcore
Leaving dead bodies…
Leaving dead bodies…
Dead bodies…